Behind Closed Doors
by The Feesh
Summary: Sometimes what you see isn't always what you get. Based on the Transformers 2007 RPG Survival: Earth. Mech/mech gendertype pairing, no smut.


The charade ended the instant the door closed

The charade ended the instant the door closed.

It was necessary; a needed lie in order to preserve life so dear.

They both acted the part, and so far, nobody had questioned anything aside from the medic's sanity in choosing to room with _that one_ of all mechanoids. But they didn't know. They, as a vast majority, never would if he had anything to do about it.

Oh, a few did. Stress Proof, perhaps based on elder's intuition alone, had figured it out. Even Speedtrap had guessed and done so correctly. He himself had considered disclosing such confidential information in a human companion he tended to escape to when the world as a whole became too noisy.

Barricade keyed the lock into active mode and didn't bother glancing over the room he'd claimed as his own. The mostly Spartan space and bare walls were of little concern to him. There wasn't much in the universe that measured up in importance to the only other Cybertronian who was in the room with him.

The only other Cybertronian who truly _mattered._

Barricade would give up anyone else. He could witness the few others he considered friends as they died and would find it within himself to continue in this never ending battle that was survival, but not him. _Not_ him. There would be a future as bleak and promising as a vast, black desert that never seemed to end if he left. There would be nothing; there would be no one; there would be no faith or hope to be had.

Just a hole where the bond had once been.

And that was why the lie perpetuated.

The Decepticon had very specific views on what he considered to be beauty, and for the most part the one upon which he currently viewed wouldn't strike most as being particularly appealing. He was an Autobot; all smooth lines and curves over deadly sharp edges and claws. Barricade distinctly remembered a member of the Decepticon forces that he had worked elbow-to-elbow with for thousands of years: Blackout. He was massive, with optics that seemed to pierce into the soul and a booming voice that shook a mech right down to the smallest components when he spoke. The flier had _reeked _of power and dominance, and Barricade, although never would he admit it, also distinctly remembered thinking Blackout was one of the most eye-catching beings in existence despite the longstanding hatred he'd developed for the gigantic mech. To put it in human lingo the Saleen had picked up during his extended stay on Earth, Blackout had been _hot_.

This mech, though, was nothing like that. In fact he was rather small at around twelve feet tall and light in stature. He was built for speed, for flight, rather than fight, as Barricade knew that this mech didn't have a single ounce of battle ability to him. Blue optics; humanoid proportions (at least as human as a mech could get, other than the canine-like legs); smooth, mostly nondescript black, white, and silver armor…this Autobot was the opposite of what most Decepticons would find attractive and yet Barricade couldn't think of anyone else in the universe he'd rather look at.

It was the smile that initially snapped him out of his semi-trance and drew him over. That simple, almost-Earthen gesture that he was greeted with every time he walked in.

Chirapsio scooted over on the berth to let his mate sit down. For being such a tiny mech, he could be an impressive bed-hog. "Long day?"

The Mustang snorted. "A very lazy one."

"Lazy days are nice every now and then, no?" came the cheerful retort. The medic was always in high-spirits and when he wasn't, one could expect apocalypse.

"I suppose… I had to spend all day recovering from you turning me into a gelatinous mass last night. My processors never quite pulled out of it. Heathen."

A puff of air erupted from the far smaller Autobot's vents. "Oh?" he prodded, amused.

"I spent some nine hours lounging on a couch in the bar." Barricade pretended to be displeased about that fact.

Chiro laughed. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that his usually paranoid and uptight bondmate had relaxed enough to snooze sprawled out on a couch in a public place or that he was attempting to dredge up a way-too serious face to portray his psuedo-disapproval.

Probably both.

The Porsche then decided it was appropriate to occupy the seat upon which he was always welcome and sat on Barricade's lap with his back to the other's chest. The position earned him a satisfied rumble and two taloned hands resting against his stomach, pulling him closer. The pair fell into silence, contemplating what they may, the Decepticon resting his conical teeth against the back of his partner's neck, and the other was unbothered by the gesture. There was no distrust to be found between them.

Minutes of contented silence passed, the only light in the room offered by a wall sconce lit above the berth. The dim illumination had been an agreement between the two, with Chirapsio enjoying bright light and Barricade oftentimes putting out his best impression of Count Dracula. Some days the Autobot swore his Decepticon counterpart was allergic to the sun.

Chiro slowly turned, disentangling the Mustang's arms from his waist in order to face him completely. Barricade looked on in infinite patience, allowing the other to manipulate his limbs as he required to squirm into a position that was comfortable for them both. Words were left unspoken given the unnecessary nature of them as the Porsche retracted armor plating and bared his spark, and without hesitation or thought the other did the same, knowing what was being asked and more than willing to give it. The Autobot leaned down and relaxed against his mate's chassis and they wrapped their arms around each other to enjoy the ride.

And as the world fell out from underneath them, nothing else existed but each other.

* * *

Author's Note: _First, I would like to point out to anyone who may think it is: this is not smut. Nay! Allow me to explain in further detail what I mean to those who may not understand._

_What they are doing is called sparkbonding. This is not canon, is not sanctioned by any TF universe that I am aware of, and thus I claim no trueness to it (then again, is any smut writing out there considered true by anything but fandom? and thus, is all of this not speculation?), this is merely my theory and how I tend to write (the one exception was a co-written story I wrote with another author here called "Twisted"). Sparkbonding according to the Laws of Feesh has absolutely nothing to do with anything smutty. The pleasure gained from this activity is gleaned from the bonds that are strengthened and felt over by the pair of bonded mates. There are no overloads. Just a beginning and an ending. I liken the way I write it with the "sharing" that Macxlarabee on Livejournal writes hers (found here: community./tf2007fun/tag/poster+macxlarabee ). In my version, which makes the spark and sparkbonding so deeply personal, is that for that fleeting time span during which two sparks touch information about their lives, minds, emotions, and desires are shared. Bonding opens the kinds of doors that no one else in the universe has a right to have other than your mate. Forced sparkbonding is also the only way a Cybertronian can rape another Cybertronian due to the factors stated above.  
_

_Point is, and please keep an open mind, because _they're not actually smexing each other up. _:) Sorry to disappoint anyone who thought so. Thusly, I do not deem this as needed to be rated any higher than it is. _

_I actually neglected with this addendum first as I forgot what the majority of the fandom considers spark-spark activity to be, so really, it was my mistake for forgetting and not explaining. Now that I have, I bid yee adieu!_


End file.
